


Something They Share

by Bouzingo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: 1940s, Discussions of War, Genderqueer Character, Mentions of Transphobia in the Military, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smoking, Trans Female Character, bucky is genderqueer but doesn't have the term yet, reposted bc ao3 is a butt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouzingo/pseuds/Bouzingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Peggy find a quiet moment to talk. Reposted from an earlier AO3 attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something They Share

Peggy finds Bucky outside, smoking a rationed cigarette and pale. His hands shake, a poor characteristic for a sniper, and he doesn’t notice her until she coughs quietly.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, attempting a devil may care smile and failing miserably. When he was terms of endearment she doesn’t feel condescended to, because he uses the same terms and then some for Steve. He is so affectionate she is taken aback sometimes. Barnes is rough around the edges, but gentler than Steve in almost every way. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I don’t sleep often these days,” she admits. “There’s too much to be done.”

“Yeah,” Buck says.

“And why can’t you sleep?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He finishes his cigarettes, then sighs before lighting another one.

“I get dreams,” he says. “Can’t tell nobody about them because I don’t know why they scare me, but it’s been weeks and I can’t figure them out still. Didn’t used to dream. Used to fall asleep and then wake up, that’s it. But now I’m sweating every night.”

He’s scared because he thinks it’s the experiments, Peggy realizes. Maybe he still dreams about them, but is too proud to admit it. She sits beside him, pulls out a rare cigarette of her own. He watches her fumble for her matches, offers he the smoldering end of his smoke. When they are both smoking, she feigns to speak.

“Before it became very apparent to others that I was a woman,” she says matter-of-factly, “I was stationed in Belgium. 1941. We were undermanned, under armed, and we had precious little intel. The forests were filled with snipers, mines. It was hell.”

“I bet,” Bucky says quietly. This is something they share, independent of Steve, who’s never been in the mud, never had to face artillery fire without his shield.

“After that, I got dreams,” Peggy says. “They weren’t about the battlefield. I was always in a maze, and I couldn’t figure it out. The same dreams over and over.”

“Did you stop having them?” Bucky asks. Peggy pauses. He looks so hopeful.

“I didn’t,” she says softly. “I still dream about the maze, and I still can’t solve it. But it’s better now, because things aren’t so hopeless anymore.”

Bucky stubs out his cigarette, and Peggy realizes how young he looks, now that he’s clean-shaven and groomed.

“They wanted me to go home after the… when I came back to base,” he says. “Doctor said my head was probably a mess, even though there’s nothing wrong with my physically. And you know, I agreed. I wanted nothing else except to go back to Brooklyn a hero and wait out the rest of the fucking war. But I couldn’t.”

Peggy doesn’t have to ask why.

“He’ll never go home,” Bucky says with utmost certainty. “He’s the ace up their sleeve, ain’t he? And after this war, there’s going to be another one. And it won’t even cross his mind that he could say no to them if they ask him to serve again. So I won’t say no either.”

He looks frustrated and vexed and sad. Peggy can see he’s itching for another cigarette.

“It’s not selfish to miss home,” she says. “And it wouldn’t be selfish to go back.”

“Why haven’t you?” Bucky asks.

“Because there’s nothing there for me,” Peggy says. “My family doesn’t acknowledge me and I don’t have a sweetheart who isn’t here with me.”

“Is that what me’n Steve are? Your sweethearts?” Bucky says. His smile is less sad now.

“Of course. You have the prettiest lips in Brooklyn, and he has the prettiest eyes. I’m absolutely smitten,” Peggy says, and leans forward to kiss Bucky who lets her, tastes like cigarette smoke and sweets.

There’s a little bit of wax on his lips too, because he can find her jealously hoarded tubes of pigment when he wants to and she finally sees the ring of red on his stubbed out cigarette. And that’s another thing they share, the makeup, the powder and the lipstick, but especially the kohl, which he applies so often the Commandos only notice when he isn’t wearing it. She notices too, because it serves to offset the permanent shadows under his eyes and sometimes makes his eyes a little more animated.

“You’re really something,” he says, lips smeared more obviously with her lipstick after the kiss. “Thanks for the talk.”

“Thanks for the light,” Peggy responds, touching his face lightly. He keeps it so smooth, prides himself on having a cleanshaven face with no bumps or stubble at all. “Try to get some sleep, Sergeant.”


End file.
